


meet me at the fucking pit (and let me hold your hand)

by anyadisee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confessions, M/M, a bit of humor, awkward confessions, boys being ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyadisee/pseuds/anyadisee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yoo-hoo~ Oh my, why the dark faces, everyone?” Oikawa asks as he walks into the room, Iwaizumi right by his heels.</p><p>Kunimi, who had been looking bored the entire time, picks up the piece of paper and loudly reads the two sentences written in thick black ink and an angry-looking scrawl across its surface. “<i>Yahaba, meet me at the lot behind the old Humanities building, 6PM. Don’t bring anyone, and don’t be late.</i> That’s what it says.”</p><p>The room falls silent once more.</p><p>Then, “Holy shit, Yahaba-chan, who did you cross this time?”</p><p> </p><p>[in which yahaba receives a vaguely threatening letter, and kyoutani disappears from practice.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	meet me at the fucking pit (and let me hold your hand)

**Author's Note:**

> "oh," i said, "i just finished a 35k word fic so i should take a break," I SAID. three days later here is?? another fic??
> 
> based from [my own tweets](https://twitter.com/anyadisee/status/747256507234869248) because i couldn't stop thinking about kyouhaba in this situation. i honestly enjoyed writing this too much, so i hope you'll enjoy reading it even just a little? maybe? :D
> 
> (also, one of these days i'll write something other than seijoh interacting... maybe... but that day is not today!)

The letter had seemed nonthreatening at first.

In fact, when Yahaba went to open his locker that morning mere minutes before his first period, after having to stay in the gym a while longer due to the sudden disappearance of a certain wing spiker towards the end of morning practice, he found the letter sitting unassumingly on top of his textbooks, folded inside a pink envelope that was slightly crinkled from where the sender had forced it through the slits of Yahaba’s locker door.

Though he hasn’t experienced it himself prior to that moment in the near two years he’s been in Aoba Johsai, Yahaba isn’t unfamiliar with the setup. He’s seen Oikawa on the receiving end of it enough times the previous year, even with the very public knowledge that he’s already taken (Yahaba had been told that it was even worse when Oikawa was a first year himself, the confessions coming in like the daily paper at someone’s front doorstep; they only began to lessen when Oikawa kissed Iwaizumi in front of an entire gymnasium, right after winning an official game they both started in for the first time, and everyone went, _Oh_ ).

Yahaba opened the love letter.

Except it _wasn’t_ a love letter, and Yahaba had been five minutes late to his Algebra class after being rooted to the spot, textbook and worksheet forgotten, locker door hanging open, and class bell ignored, all while staring at the letter’s contents.

That was roughly four hours ago.

Now he sits in the volleyball team’s clubroom, the letter flattened on top of a box of supplies acting as a makeshift table, trying to figure out what to do about the situation he has found himself in.

Beside him sits Watari, who is chewing on his lower lip anxiously, and off to a corner stands Kindaichi, looking extremely nervous as though he was the one who received the letter. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are positioned in front of the lockers, arms crossed as they stare down at the paper that’s now beginning to feel like some kind of death sentence, matching grim expressions on their faces.

The clubroom door opens.

“Yoo-hoo~ Oh my, why the dark faces, everyone?” Oikawa asks as he walks into the room, Iwaizumi right by his heels.

Kunimi, who had been looking bored the entire time, picks up the piece of paper and loudly reads the two simple sentences written in thick black ink and an angry-looking scrawl across its surface. “ _Yahaba, meet me at the lot behind the old Humanities building, 6PM. Don’t bring anyone, and don’t be late._ That’s what it says.”

The room falls silent once more.

Then, “Holy shit, Yahaba-chan, who did you cross this time?”

“Why do you sound impressed?” Iwaizumi asks, walking past Oikawa and taking the letter from Kunimi so he can read it for himself.

“And what do you mean _this time_ , Oikawa-san?” Yahaba asks, distressed. “You make it sound like I go out of my way picking fights with people! Which I have never done, by the way, so it doesn’t make sense for me to get threatened like this!”

“Are you sure it’s a threat?” Watari asks cautiously. Yahaba just stares at him. It doesn’t happen often, since Aoba Johsai students are more or less disciplined enough (or smart enough) not to start brawls within school grounds, but they know what the lot behind the old, unused Humanities building is typically used for. They all know what happens there, in the rare times that it _does_ happen.

Watari lifts his hands in defense and looks away. Yahaba looks back at the letter, which is now in Oikawa’s hands.

For a moment, it seems as though everyone is awaiting their captain’s verdict – though, a small voice in Yahaba’s head says, Oikawa won’t be their captain for long now, not when the third years retire and Oikawa passes his responsibilities and the fate of the team onto someone else. Onto _Yahaba_.

He pushes that thought away, because he has enough to worry about right now.

Finally, Oikawa nods once and sets the letter down. “Right. I say the best course of action to take here, both for Yahaba-chan’s safety and for the reputation of the club, is to just ignore it.”

That hadn’t even occurred to Yahaba. But – “But what if they decide to bother me more? What if they send me more letters? What if they get even more and more aggressive? What if they start stalking me?” A horrible, horrible thought makes itself known in his head. “What if they already _are?_ ” He looks around the clubroom, as though someone might be hiding in the corners, watching him.

Oikawa waves a hand. “You’re just being melodramatic, Yahaba-chan!”

“You’re the last person I ever want to hear that from,” Iwaizumi says, in that usual part-exasperated part-fond way of his when it comes to Oikawa. Yahaba had been thinking the exact same thing, but he’s glad Iwaizumi said it because Yahaba doesn’t want to sound disrespectful to his senpai, even if he’s just stating fact.

Oikawa, predictably, pouts and leaps at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi, also predictably, tries to push him away for exactly forty-five seconds.

The bell rings.

 

***

 

Yahaba tries to push the letter to the back of his mind as afternoon practice begins. He goes through the warm-up stretches with Watari, as per usual, frowning slightly when he scans the room and sees not even a single trace of ridiculously bleached hair and eyes that feel like knives.

“He isn’t here,” he sighs, letting Watari press down on his lower back as he tries to reach for the space between his feet.

“Kyoutani?” Watari asks. Yahaba just lets out another sigh in reply, and Watari hums thoughtfully. “He’s been getting better at showing up to practice, though. I’m pretty sure he was here this morning.”

“Yeah.” Yahaba straightens once Watari’s hold lets up. “But he suddenly vanished. _Again_. I thought he finally understood what being in a _team_ meant when I talked to him during Spring Tournament.”

“Don’t you mean when you threw him against the wall and yelled at him?” Watari asks, snickering.

“Hey!” Yahaba turns around and frowns up at his friend. “That was a heat-of-the-moment thing, okay? I had to do it to get him to listen! And it worked, didn’t it? He got his act together and played well until the end.” He pushes himself up to his feet and rolls a shoulder back. “Besides, we _did_ talk after. Properly.” He frowns again. “At least, as proper a conversation as one can have with the likes of _Kyoutani Kentarou._ ”

Watari is watching him curiously. “This is the first time I’m hearing about this.”

“What, me talking to him after?” Yahaba scans the rest of the gym, seeing the other players still going through their warm-ups. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. Or, it _was_ , I guess, but it’s between me and him.”

In reality, the conversation had been tense, but not exactly the purely antagonistic kind of tense that Yahaba had been expecting, especially after the stunt he pulled on the sidelines. If Yahaba had to describe it with a single word, he’d probably say _awkward_ , with Kyoutani unable to look him in the eye all of a sudden and resorting to glaring daggers at the ground instead, and Yahaba too confused by the way Kyoutani was acting to have been as stern as he would’ve liked, even resorting to _praising_ Kyoutani in his own way.

Still, he managed to say what he wanted to say, and Kyoutani seemed like he understood just how important his role is going to be in the team starting from that point. He even promised to show up to practice regularly, albeit begrudgingly, and Yahaba had walked away feeling like he just ran ten laps around the gym.

He lets out another sigh, this time more frustrated. “He _promised_ he’d show up.”

Watari pats him on the back. “Maybe he just doesn’t feel well.”

“But he was here this morning!” If anything, that’s what worries Yahaba most. If Kyoutani just decided not to show up today, at all, then he would’ve let it pass. But the fact that he was here and then he’s suddenly not, that he’s being _unpredictable_ again, is more than just slightly alarming.

“You seem really worried about him,” Watari observes, tone casual. Which means he’s not being casual at all.

Yahaba flushes, for some reason. “It’s nothing personal,” he says, even as his mouth feels weird around the words. “He’s the strongest spiker we have among the second years, which also makes him most likely to be our next ace. He still has a lot of work to do about his control, though, which won’t be possible if _he isn’t here_.”

Watari just laughs lightly. “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” He thumps Yahaba on the back, before jogging off to the courts as the others begin to gather around Mizoguchi and Irihata. “But don’t stress yourself too much about it, _captain_.”

“I’m not—”

“Not _yet_!!” Watari yells, laughing, and Yahaba bites back a smile as he jogs after him.

 

***

 

“I think I figured it out,” Hanamaki says, during a short break halfway through practice. He turns to stare at Yahaba with a slightly unsettling grin.

“Figured what out, Makki?” Oikawa asks, suddenly appearing over Yahaba’s shoulder and making him jump. He debates for a moment whether to tell his senpai that electing him as next captain would be useless if he were to suffer a heart attack, but then decides that the melodramatics that were sure to follow wouldn’t be worth it.

Hanamaki points at him. “Yahaba’s letter. It’s from someone outside the school.”

Now _that_ gets Yahaba’s attention. He turns to stare at Hanamaki, along with everybody else within close proximity who is aware of his situation, and waits for Hanamaki to elaborate. Even Kunimi, who had seemed apathetic towards the future of their captain-to-be and, in turn, their entire team during the impromptu meeting in the clubroom earlier, seems interested to hear what Hanamaki has to say.

“Since we don’t actually have tight security, anyone wearing a uniform can come and go as they please, so don’t tell me it’s impossible for them to have snuck into school grounds,” Hanamaki begins. “Now, as we all know, the academic year is coming to a close and teams are being turned over to new captaincies. Since we’re still a powerhouse regardless of Spring Tournament results”—and here everyone collectively pauses for a moment, silently vowing to get their revenge and stage a comeback in the next Interhigh _and_ Spring Tournament—“it would make sense that other teams would be keeping close tabs on us, _especially_ on who’s going to take over.”

“So you’re saying…” Yahaba trails off.

“I’m saying someone from another school has set their sights on you. For all I know, they might try to convince you to transfer,” Hanamaki says.

Oikawa gasps. “They can’t take Yahaba-chan!”

Iwaizumi, on the other hand, looks doubtful. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. And besides, on the slightest chance that you’re right, who could the sender possibly be?”

Hanamaki seems to consider this, with a thoughtful hum that suggests he’s actually already given prior thought to this matter and is only pretending to think. Regardless of what the other third years say about Oikawa and his dramatic tendencies, he certainly isn’t the only one inclined to it. “Maybe it’s that starting setter from Shiratorizawa.”

“ _Shirabu?_ ” Yahaba says, immediately frowning. If he had been a little more childish, he might’ve stuck his tongue out in distaste. Just saying the name felt like putting something awful-tasting in his mouth.

“How the hell did you even arrive to that conclusion?” Iwaizumi asks, sounding incredulous.

Hanamaki waves his hands around, as though trying to get everyone to see his logic. “Well, Shiratorizawa is obviously our biggest competition.” He pauses, then amends, “Other than Karasuno now, that is.”

“This conversation is giving me a headache,” Oikawa interrupts, face twisted into something unpleasant. “Can we please not mention those schools’ unholy names while in the sanctity of our gym?”

Hanamaki waves a hand, and continues as though Oikawa hadn’t spoken, “Anyway, by taking you out of Seijoh next year, the team would be in absolute _shambles_ , and that’d give them more of an advantage. This Shirabu kid is going to be their next captain, right? So it makes sense.”

“I don’t think it does,” Watari says, words slow and careful. “I mean, I’m not saying it’s _impossible_ , but—”

“But you’re reaching,” Iwaizumi throws in, and Watari looks relieved that he’s not the one who had to say it.

Hanamaki frowns. “Okay, but the envelope was the same color as Shiratorizawa’s jersey, so I think that’s saying something.” Yahaba doesn’t point out that the pink of the envelope is a very different shade from Shiratorizawa’s more purplish pink. If anything, the envelope is closer to the color of Hanamaki’s hair. “And I don’t see any of you coming up with any other ideas!”

“I don’t think you’re reaching,” Matsukawa says, finally.

Hanamaki brightens at that, raising a fist. “Thank you, Issei.”

Matsukawa bumps their fists together, letting his knuckles linger for a second longer than is necessary, before bringing his hand back down. “Though I don’t think they’re trying to get Yahaba to transfer. Maybe Shirabu just wants to have some kind of setter showdown.”

Hanamaki stares at Matsukawa like he’s some kind of genius.

“No kouhai of mine is going to lose to a kouhai of _Ushiwaka-chan_.” And since Oikawa has no problem with being childish, he sticks his tongue out in distaste. Iwaizumi looks completely done, though whether it’s with Oikawa’s childish antics or the conversation in general, Yahaba can’t tell for sure. Kindaichi, on the other hand, looks even more nervous than he did earlier.

“I think Matsukawa-senpai is right,” Kunimi says, and everyone turns to look at him. “Though I think instead of a battle of setters, he’ll just straight up try to kill you.”

Kindaichi looks alarmed. Iwaizumi looks even more done. The rest of the third years look like they can’t decide whether to be proud or horrified.

Watari tries to get the conversation back under control. “Okay, let’s not jump so far ahead—”

“Ah!” Oikawa shouts suddenly, slamming a fist on top of his palm. “I got it!”

Iwaizumi lets out a ragged sigh. “Can we please stop with the theories—”

“But Iwa-chan!” Oikawa interrupts. “This one makes sense, I swear.” He addresses the group, and Yahaba realizes that they’ve somehow rearranged themselves to stand in a haphazard sort of circle, “The letter came from someone on the team.”

At this, everyone becomes more interested in what Oikawa has to say, actually leaning in closer.

Seeming pleased at the attention, Oikawa lowers his voice conspiratorially and glances around them, as though to make sure no one else is listening. “We officially announce who’s going to be the next captain in a week, right?”

“Right,” Iwaizumi says, “though I don’t see why we’re whispering since it’s obvious that it’s going to be Yahaba – oh.”

Oikawa makes finger guns and pretends to shoot at Iwaizumi twice. “Bingo. Someone doesn’t agree with Yahaba-chan being next captain!”

Yahaba wants to lie down on the floor and just. Just _not deal_ with any of this.

“But who could be against Yahaba-san being captain?” Kindaichi asks, glancing around them quickly. “I thought everyone in the club was in agreement? When we talked about it?”

“Well, the decision is pretty much unanimous, yes,” Oikawa says. “So it wouldn’t matter at all if just _one_ were to disagree. At least, not by the club rules. So they decided to take matters into their own hands by dealing with Yahaba-chan _outside_ of club, after practice hours, when no one on the team can be a witness.”

“I told you all he was going to get killed,” Kunimi says.

“But,” Iwaizumi says loudly over Kunimi’s statement, “who could it be?”

They all consider this for a moment.

Then, Oikawa says, “It’s Kyouken-chan.”

All eyes turn to him, and Yahaba feels a shock of something sudden just at the mere suggestion. Hanamaki frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, he’s the only one who can possibly hold a grudge against Yahaba-chan!” Oikawa says, not bothering to keep his voice down, this time. He gestures around the gym. “And do you see him anywhere right now?”

That – Oikawa actually has a point. But.

“Oh, come on.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Kyoutani’s not a bad kid. He’s eager to play, and slightly awkward, and has a grouchy face, but he’s not a bad kid.”

“Do you know you just described yourself?” Oikawa asks, ducking quickly to avoid the slap Iwaizumi aims at him. “And that’s easy for you to say, Iwa-chan! Kyouken-chan listens to you! He’s got some kind of hero-worship going on.”

Iwaizumi looks like he might be blushing. “He does not! He wants to be the strongest player, doesn’t he? And I’m still technically the ace”—his face scrunches slightly, like he’s unused to making statements that sound like he’s praising himself, even though he’s just stating fact—“so it’d make sense that he thinks he’d be the strongest if he defeated me, right?”

“I just think the kid has a crush on you,” Matsukawa says. Yahaba freezes.

Oikawa makes a face at that, like he just swallowed something unpleasant. Iwaizumi looks incredibly flustered.

Hanamaki asks, “Are you jealous, Oikawa?”

“I’m not!” Oikawa says.

Yahaba still feels frozen in place, something cold suddenly gripping at his insides at the mere thought of Kyoutani possibly liking Iwaizumi. He doesn’t understand what it means.

“You totally are,” Matsukawa says. “It’s written all over your face.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to say something to that, but then Mizoguchi is yelling at them to stop slacking off and get their asses back onto the court, and that _just because we don’t have any more tournaments to play for the term, doesn’t mean you should all be slacking off!_

Everyone scatters, save for Kunimi who looks like he might be dragging his feet against the polished wooden flooring, and for Yahaba, who jogs at a slower pace towards the court as he waits for his insides to stop feeling like ice.

 

***

 

“If you’re going to punch me, just do it quick and let’s get this over with,” Kyoutani had said when Yahaba managed to corner him in an empty bathroom, right after their match against Karasuno.

Yahaba had blinked incredulously, ignoring the slight sting that still lingered around his eyes from tears both shed and unshed. “Why the hell would I punch you?”

Kyoutani had stared at him, but it seemed like he couldn’t look at Yahaba for too long without fidgeting, which was incredibly weird. Yahaba didn’t think Kyoutani would be the type of person who would have trouble meeting anyone head-on, but he guessed there were unknown sides to everyone, Kyoutani included.

“We lost because of me,” Kyoutani had finally said, scowling at the floor.

Yahaba had frowned at that. “So you’re just going to stay here and, and do what? Wallow in self-pity? Blame yourself and let the bus leave without you? Separate yourself from the team, _again_?”

At that, Kyoutani had looked up sharply, features settled into a fierce glare, before he looked away again and burned holes into the wall instead. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because I can’t do that!” Yahaba had shouted. He heard the sound of feet quickly shuffling away from outside the door, whoever was coming in to use the bathroom probably sensing a tense situation and smartly avoiding it. “Our strongest players are going to graduate, Kyoutani, and I can’t – _we_ can’t let this team fall apart. Didn’t I tell you never to forget how Karasuno looked like earlier? Didn’t I tell you that we were going to pay them back?”

Kyoutani had glanced at him, quickly, before nodding once.

Yahaba tried to meet his eyes. “I meant that. Every single word of it. But we can’t do that if we don’t act as a team.” And here was when the words started coming to Yahaba in a sudden rush, filling his mouth and pushing at each other to get out, but he held himself from letting them spill. Carefully, he selected what to say, and the atmosphere shifted. “The team needs you, Kyoutani. You were a handful out there earlier, yes, but once you cooled down and got yourself together, you did a really good job.”

Kyoutani had looked at him, for a second, and this time Yahaba found himself the one unable to look anyone in the eye. He turned his head slightly.

“You’ll be the strongest player that we’ve got, without a doubt, once the third years leave for real. And if we get past our differences, I think we can work really well together, as setter and ace. Not as smoothly as Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san, maybe, because I don’t think anyone in the prefecture can match them in terms of being completely in sync, but we could still come up with plays that would match our own pace and dynamics if we just learn to cooperate and communicate, and—” Yahaba had stopped himself there, suddenly aware that he was close to rambling.

Kyoutani had rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a huff of breath. “Yeah, okay. I get it.”

Yahaba stared at a point above Kyoutani’s shoulder. “Okay. Well then, let’s head back. Oikawa-san wants to talk to us back in the gym.” He had hesitated, waiting for Kyoutani to say anything else, but when Kyoutani only remained silent and firmly not looking at him, he took a step back. “Right. We’ll be waiting, then.”

As he turned around, a hand on the doorknob, he decided to add before he could really think about it, “And it wasn’t your fault. That we lost, I mean. A team’s victory is shared by the team as a whole, and the same goes for a team’s loss. So. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Then he stepped out without waiting for Kyoutani to reply, escaping the heavy air of the room and letting out a slightly unsteady breath.

Then, he returned to the bus.

 

***

 

At exactly 6.17PM, Yahaba arrives to the lot behind the old Humanities building, which now serves as storage for mostly useless things no one in the school really wants to throw away, and finds no other than Kyoutani Kentarou leaning against the wall with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his uniform pants.

Yahaba’s first thought is, _I can’t believe Oikawa-san was right,_ immediately followed by, _Please don’t let me get murdered today._

He approaches Kyoutani. “Hey.”

Kyoutani looks up quickly at the sound of his footsteps and nearly stumbles over himself in his haste to push himself off of the wall. He glares at Yahaba, though it loses a bit of its heat by the pink dusting his cheeks. “You’re late.”

Yahaba can honestly say that he doesn’t have a single clue what to expect out of this meeting. “ _Sorry_ , some of us actually care about practice and sticking around after to help clean up. Which, by the way, you skipped today.”

Kyoutani’s frown deepens. “Oh, for fuck’s sake – can you please shut up about the fucking club, for once? There’s a reason I asked you to come here _after_ practice.”

Yahaba places a hand on his hip, trying to make it seem like he’s nonchalant about the entire thing, as though he isn’t dying to know what Kyoutani wants from him. “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? Your letter was incredibly vague.”

Kyoutani turns his head and glares at a point on the back wall of the building. The action feels vaguely familiar to Yahaba, like he’s been in a situation similar to this before. “I need to tell you something. Alone.”

Yahaba resists the urge to shove his fist into his pocket, which is a nervous habit he’s trying to get rid of. He keeps it loosely closed by his side, trying not to let his fingers fidget. “Well, I’m here. We’re alone.” He thinks of what the others said, adds, “If you’re going to punch me, you better get it over with quick.”

At that, Kyoutani turns to look at him, confused. He seems like he’s debating with what to say for a moment, open his mouth to let out, “I told you—” before stopping, then starting again with, “Why would I want to punch you?”

Yahaba shrugs. “Your letter sounded vaguely threatening. Some of our senpai thought you were going to challenge me, or something.”

The oddest thing happens, then. Kyoutani’s face turns _completely_ red, his blush reaching up to the tips of his ears and the base of his hairline, and for a split second he looks like one of those small animals that would bolt away at the slightest of movements. Yahaba _stares_.

“The – the third years know I sent the letter?”

“They – what? _No_. Even _I_ didn’t know who the letter was from! I just asked them for help.” Yahaba purses his lips. “Though, Oikawa-san _did_ think it might’ve been you.”

Kyoutani groans, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “That guy – why does he have to be so damn observant all the time? He’s so annoying.”

“Hey,” Yahaba says, defensive, “Oikawa-san is—”

“Can we,” Kyoutani interrupts, “just – why did you even ask the third years for help?”

“Because I didn’t know what to do! I’ve never received a letter like this before, and—”

“You know,” Kyoutani interrupts, _again_. Yahaba is starting to get incredibly irritated with this conversation. “When people send you a letter to meet them, you don’t ask everyone around what to do about it.” Yahaba opens his mouth to protest, because it’s perfectly reasonable for him to have asked for the others’ opinions, but then Kyoutani adds in a mutter, “It’s like you’ve never received a fucking confession before.”

Yahaba stops. The world stops. Time, possibly, also stops.

And then it starts right up again, leaving Yahaba feeling like the wind just got knocked out of him, because what? _What?_ Did he hear right? Did Kyoutani just say—

“Confession?”

Kyoutani finally removes his hands from his deeply flushed face to glare directly at Yahaba, though he immediately falters and shifts his intense stare towards the ground instead. Faintly, it finally registers to Yahaba why this scene feels so familiar. “Yeah, fuck, I thought you were supposed to be smart? Why else would I ask you to meet me here?”

“But—” Yahaba stops himself, not really knowing what to say. It feels as though someone just pulled the ground out from underneath him, leaving him suspended in air, disoriented and seconds away from falling.

Kyoutani takes a step forward, then stops, shoves his hands back into his pockets. He looks away and – and that’s a pout. His usual scowl has been replaced with an actual pout, and Yahaba actually thinks that it’s _cute_. “I like you,” Kyoutani says, finally, voice awkward and stiff, just like his posture. “So I’m asking you to go out with me.”

And then – and then that cold feeling that has been gripping Yahaba’s insides, ever since Matsukawa suggested the (very plausible) idea that Kyoutani might have a crush on Iwaizumi, the cold that has stayed with him for the rest of practice, suddenly vanishes completely. In its wake is the beginnings of something like warmth, and a slow, sudden realization that feels like, _Oh._

“Oh,” he says.

Kyoutani scratches the back of his head and scuffs the tip of his shoe onto the ground. “Yeah.” Then he glares at Yahaba again, though it loses its intensity with how much he’s blushing. “So if you’re going to reject me, just say so now. You don’t have to worry about me skipping out on practice or leaving the club or whatever, I’m not gonna do that just because you said no, I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot but I know it’s not—”

This time, it’s Yahaba who interrupts, which surprises them both. “Yes.”

Kyoutani startles a little. “What—”

“Yes,” Yahaba hears himself say, now feeling himself blush as well. “I’ll – yes. I’ll go out with you.”

Kyoutani almost smiles. But then he scowls again. “You’re not just doing this because you’re afraid it’s gonna be weird for the team, are you?”

Yahaba almost yells at him. “No! Don’t jump to conclusions, what the hell. Weren’t you the one who told me to stop thinking about the club? I’m not thinking about the club right now.”

“So.” Kyoutani kicks at a rock. “You’ll go out with me?”

“Didn’t I already say yes?”

Kyoutani rocks back on his heels. He seems oddly bashful. “I didn’t know you liked me.”

“I – I didn’t know, either,” Yahaba says honestly.

Kyoutani stills. Frowns. “So you _don’t_ like me?”

“I didn’t say that!” Yahaba shouts, before running a hand through his hair. His face feels like it’ll burst into flames if he doesn’t get his blush under control. “What I meant is that I didn’t _realize_ I did, but—” he lets out a frustrated breath. “Earlier Matsukawa-san said you might have a crush on Iwaizumi-san, and it didn’t sit well with me, though I couldn’t figure out _why_ until now, and – god, this is so awkward, but it suddenly makes sense.” It suddenly also makes sense why Yahaba can’t help but _look_ for Kyoutani during practice, even when he already knows Kyoutani is there. But he doesn’t say that, because this is already embarrassing as it is.

Kyoutani still looks unsure. Neither of them have stopped blushing. “So… you like me?”

“Yes!” Yahaba throws his hands out, unable to stop himself. “Yes, I like you, too, Kyoutani Kentarou! That’s why I’m agreeing to going out with you!”

“Oh.” Kyoutani says. Then he _does_ smile, and it’s not the adrenaline-filled, excited smile he usually gets whenever he manages a good spike or gets a strong serve in during a game. It’s a small smile, an awkward one as though he isn’t used to smiling like that, and Yahaba finds it adorable. “Well, that’s. That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Kyoutani opens his mouth to say something more, but then there’s the sound of something rustling from the edge of the building, followed by a muffled squeak and what suspiciously sounds like _Ow, Iwa-chan!_

Yahaba and Kyoutani stare at each other. Then they follow the noise and find no other than the team in the middle of making a hasty exit, Iwaizumi practically dragging Oikawa by the ear, Matsukawa and Hanamaki pushing at Kunimi and Kindaichi’s shoulders.

“Let’s _go_ , Shittykawa. We should’ve left _minutes_ ago—”

“But I wanna see what’ll happen next, Iwa-chan! I need to see if Kyouken-chan really has pure intentions and—”

“Um,” Watari says, loudly, upon seeing Kyoutani and Yahaba staring at them. “Guys. We’ve been caught.”

Everyone freezes for a split second, before turning back around to stare back at Yahaba and Kyoutani.

Then, “Yoo-hoo, Yahaba-chan! Kyouken-chan! Funny seeing you two here!”

Chaos.

 

***

 

“What were you going to say, by the way?” Yahaba asks, on the walk home some twenty minutes later. The back of his hand brushes against Kyoutani’s.

“What?” Kyoutani asks around a mouthful of that chicken snack he likes so much, fingers twitching at Yahaba’s faint touch, unsure.

“After I asked if you were going to punch me, you said _I told you_ and then stopped. What were you going to say?”

“Oh, that.” Kyoutani throws the last bite of his snack into his mouth and crumples the wrapper in his hand, before shoving it into his pocket. His hand bumps against Yahaba’s, more obvious this time. “I was going to say, _I told you the same thing before_. When you talked to me after our match against Karasuno, you found me in the bathroom, and I said the same thing.”

“Ah,” Yahaba says, laughing as he remembers. Kyoutani looks away with a blush, and Yahaba finally laces their fingers together.

 

***

 

(Somewhere in the Shiratorizawa gym, the players can’t seem to stop sneezing and getting creepy chills up their spines the entire afternoon, for some unknown reason.)

**Author's Note:**

> and with this, i officially have as many haikyuu fics posted on my ao3 as i do 1d fics. just one more and i'd finally be Truly Free.
> 
> i have a [tumblr](http://aobajhousai.tumblr.com/) and a [twitter](https://twitter.com/anyadisee) if you wanna say hi!! thank you for reading \\(^o^)/


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